Lifelong Songs
by Fly Raven. Fly
Summary: He sat up slowly and scooted back until he sat on the pillow, then really carefully lifted his Mommy's head until it was in his lap like his Mommy did for him. He pushed her hair out of her face and began to sing quietly. AU. Rated for language.


**So, I said I'd do a Kurt song list, like I had for Blaine. For those of you who haven't read it, it's called 'Always Remember Me'. So here's Kurt, but I'm not too happy with how it turned out. But I said I'd do one for Kurt, and I'm a woman of my word, so here it is. Sorry if it's not up to anyone's standards review and tell me how much you hate it if you must.**

**It's slightly AU, just, by the way.**

**Now, I'm off to write the next chapter of Iusitae Iter. **

**Disclaimer: Really? Please. They're so not mine. **

**Waking up—"Beautiful Day", U2**

**See the world in green and blue  
>See China right in front of you<br>See the canyons broken by cloud  
>See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out<br>See the Bedouin fires at night  
>See the oil fields at first light<br>And see the bird with a leaf in her mouth  
>After the flood all the colors came out<br>It was a beautiful day  
>Don't let it get away<br>Beautiful day**

"Kay…" he heard a soft voice in his ear, and he snuffled, scooting away and pushing his face back into his pillow. The pretty voice laughed and he squished his eyes closed really tight.

The covers lifted off of him, and before he could whine, he felt someone slip under with him and cuddle him. He smelled vanilla and honey and sighed, letting his mommy wrap her arms around him. She kissed the top of his head.

"Kay…" She sang softly, rubbing her nose on his forehead, and he pretended he was still sleeping, letting out a silly snore. She laughed again, giving him an Eskimo kiss on his still-scrunched-up nose. "C'mon angel baby. It's time to wake up."

He "snored" again, and knew he was caught when his mommy ran her fingers over the bottom of his foot, making him let out an itty-bitty squeal, and his eyes popped open.

He sat up really fast but kind of overbalanced, because he ended up on the floor, tangled in his blanket.

"Oof," he said, blinking. He stared up at his ceiling, where him and his Daddy put up the glow in the dark stars. His Mommy popped her head over the side of his bed, laughing at him as he just laid there instead of trying to get back out.

"Mama," he whined, pouting for good measure, 'cause he knew that it'd make her laugh again. "Why do you always have to do this?"

She flipped her long, pretty brown hair over one side of her head, smiling down at him and her eyes really bright. "Because I can. How else am I going to get your lazy bones up unless I tickle you? I swear, you sleep just as much as your daddy."

He stuck his nose in the air like those girls on that movie did when they were trying to be really snooty. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh excuse me," his mommy pulled herself up onto her knees on the edge of his bed, staring down at him with her head tilted like a puppy. "I must have you mixed up with my other son. You know, the other little boy with the obsession for apple pie and who snores like his grandpa with a cold."

His mouth dropped open and he gave her a squinty eyed look like he'd seen her do to his Daddy when he ate something really bad for lunch. "I do not! You're lying."

She lifted her eyebrows and made it seem like she was zipping her lips. Then she blinked really big like she remembered something and unzipped her lips. "Well, since you're not that boy, does that mean you _don__'__t_want blueberry pancakes? Because, I made them for my Kurt, but if you're not him then I'll just have to let his Daddy eat them."

Kurt did not like this idea at _all_, because his daddy would so eat all the pancakes if his mommy let him. He tried to get up really fast and fell back over, still all tangled in his blanket. "Mommy! No! I am your Kurt, don't let Daddy eat my pancakes. Help me out of this thing, _ugh_."

He huffed and gave up on trying to get out of his blanket, trying to stomp his foot, but it only flailed in the blanket since he wasn't standing on anything. His mommy laughed at him and helped him get out of the blanket, lifting him and putting him on his feet and fixing his power rangers 'jammies.

"Oh, honey," she ran her fingers through his hair, and he didn't even complain, bouncing on his feet and letting her do what she wanted 'cause he _really_wanted pancakes, so maybe she'd hurry up and be done soon. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Feed me pancakes. Come on, Mommy, I can hear Daddy!" He tugged her hand, making her stand up and pulled her over towards the door, because he could hear his Daddy downstairs getting his coffee, and his daddy was so close to the pancakes and they had to hurry.

"I don't think they're going anywhere, monster."

"They're gonna go in Daddy's tummy if we don't get down there, Mommy."

She laughed again, and Kurt felt her hands under his arms, then she was setting him on her hip and walking into the bright hallway. "Okay, maybe you're right about that."

They passed the window in the hallway, and Kurt laid his head on his mommy's shoulder, looking at the way the sun made his Mommy's hair shine. But then he smelled the pancakes, and was distracted, bouncing, and wondering if they could go to the park after breakfast.

**Heartbreak—"I'll Follow the Sun", the Beatles. **

He didn't like this.

He knew something was wrong. His Dad wouldn't tell him what was going on, but when Kurt had gotten sick he'd never had to go to the hospital and stay like his Mom did. But his Mom had been in there a long time, and his Dad was beginning to look really bad, and Kurt felt his belly knot and he just wanted his Mom to come home.

It was dark outside, and he and his Dad were back at the hospital like they had done everyday for the past two weeks. Something had happened to his Mama while he was in school, and then his Dad told him that his Mama may stay for a while. Until his Mom could come home, they came to see her every day, right after school and they stayed until the nurses told them they had to go home. Sometimes, they'd let them stay the night, but only if they were really quiet and only if the one nurse with the red hair was the one there that night.

She was there tonight, and she gave Kurt a small smile when he walked in with his Dad. She looked at his Dad then nodded her head towards the door, and the two adults walked out. Kurt wasn't really paying any attention to them, though.

He set his bag down—the one his Mom made him when he started Kindergarten, the one with his name sewn on the side—by the door and walked over to his Mom, who had her head turned toward him and was smiling at him tiredly.

She always looked tired now. Her skin was paler than it used to be, and she just looked so sick. She had purple circles under her eyes and she got sleepy easily now. Kurt didn't like it. His Mama was never like this before. She'd always be dancing and singing, smiling and laughing. But now she couldn't dance since she was always in bed, and she didn't laugh anymore. Her smiles were small, and she only sang every once in a while since it made it hard to breathe. No body told him that, but it was obvious to Kurt.

His Mom was in pain. They didn't tell him, but he knew that, too.

She was still beautiful, though. He always thought she was the prettiest person, ever. Even prettier than any of the princesses on his Disney movies. She sang and she danced, she smiled and laughed, and she even whistled at the bird that was outside of their kitchen window every morning.

But princesses didn't get sick, and princesses didn't stay in hospital beds.

"Hi, honey." She sounded sleepy, like Kurt did after he slept for a really long time. But she always sounded like this no, no matter how much she slept. And she slept a lot.

Kurt climbed up next to her like he did every day, being especially careful not to bump any of the wires and tubes. He tried not to look at her arms—he didn't like seeing the plastic sticking out, and knowing there was a needle under his Mama's skin. He shifted around until he could lay his head next to his Mama's, staring into her half closed eyes. He reached up to push her hair back from her forehead like she did for him all the time. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, sighing a little bit.

"Hi, Mama." He whispered. He felt like he had to whisper. Like when his Mama would come in his room when it was raining outside and they'd hide under his warm blankets until his Dad came up to get them out of bed.

"Did you have a good day at school?" her eyes were still closed.

He made a noise, not really saying anything, and just played with her hair. He bit his lip, and his chest started to hurt. He scooted down until he could lay his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat.

His throat felt really tight, and his fingers were shaking but he didn't know why. He just knew that something wasn't right. Something was different today and he was scared.

They stayed like that until his Dad came in, sitting in his chair next to his Mama's bed and held her hand. Kurt closed his eyes while they talked quietly, not really hearing what they were saying. He just pressed his ear tighter to his Mama's skin, hearing the soft _thump__thump_ that was her heart beating. If he concentrated really hard, he could smell vanilla and honey under that really clean hospital smell.

He opened his eyes when he heard his Dad stand. Kurt felt kind of confused because his Dad never made them leave this early. But his Dad wasn't making them leave. He stood and made the other hand that wasn't holding his Mama's run through her hair like Kurt had done when they first got there. Kurt looked up at his Dad, and his chest hurt even worse when he saw that he was crying. Well, not really. His eyes were watery like he was just trying not to cry.

His Dad leaned down to kiss his Mama, and then kiss Kurt on the forehead. He ran his big hand over Kurt's head. "I'll be back soon, okay kiddo? I just—I need to make a call, and my cell doesn't work in here."

"'Kay," Kurt whispered, pressing back into his Mom.

His Dad left, and his Mom began to hum softly, lifting her hand to run through his hair. Kurt felt his breath hitch like just before he cried and bit his lip a little bit harder.

"Mommy?" He hadn't called her Mommy in a long time—he was a big boy, and big boys didn't call their parents Mommy and Daddy anymore. But right now, she was Mommy.

"Yes, love?"

"When are you coming home?"

Her hand stopped a moment, and then began moving again, and Kurt thought he could hear his Mommy's heart stumble a little. But she spoke calmly, if quietly like she always did now. "Soon. I'll be home soon, baby."

Kurt didn't know why, but her answer didn't make him feel any better. In fact, he felt even more scared than before. "Why—why can't you come home now?"

She didn't say anything, and Kurt felt her press a kiss to his forehead, and he really, _really_thought he was gonna cry. But big boys didn't cry, and Kurt needed to be a big boy for Mommy, wasn't that what Daddy said?

But Daddy was crying, too, Kurt thought. Kurt was so confused and he just wanted to go home and take his Mommy with him.

Kurt had an idea, and it was a really good one, too. "Mommy?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I sing you a song?" Whenever his Mommy sang to him when he was sick, he always felt a little bit better. Maybe if he sang to her, then she'd get better.

Her hand stopped again. "I'd love that. Do you need my help?"

He shook his head a little, because he had to make her feel better, and she wasn't supposed to sing if she was sick. He sat up slowly and scooted back until he sat on the pillow, then really carefully lifted his Mommy's head until it was in his lap like his Mommy did for him. He pushed her hair out of her face and began to sing quietly, even though it wasn't really perfect like his Mommy's voice. But she loved this song, so he'd sing it for her. He slowed it down just a little bit, like a lullaby.

"One day, you'll look to see I've gone," he sang, and his Mommy opened her eyes to stare at him. She looked really sad, and her eyes started to water like Daddy's had, so he concentrated on making the song perfect so she'd feel better. "For tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun. Some day, you'll know I was the one. But tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun."

He tried to keep singing, but he couldn't, and he just really wanted to cry. His Mommy's eyes were still sad. "Oh, baby," she whispered, and pulled him back down onto her chest. He felt so mad and sad, and it just wasn't _fair_because he was supposed to making her feel better, but he couldn't sing the song, and it just wasn't working.

She began to hum where he left off, and Kurt closed his eyes, sniffling, listening to her voice and her heart beat. She had the most beautiful voice ever, even more than any princess, even though she kind of had to whisper-sing it. "And now, the time has come. And my love, I must go. And though I lose a friend, in the end you will know, oh. One day you'll find that I have gone. Tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun. But tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun…"

He fell asleep before she could finish, lulled by his Mommy's voice and her heart, and the small bit of vanilla and honey.

She was gone when he woke up the next morning, with sunlight streaming through the hospital blinds.

**Understanding—"Queer", Garbage.**

**The queerest of the queer  
>Hide inside your head<br>The blindest of the blind  
>The deadest of the dead<br>You're hungry 'cause you starve  
>While holding back the tears<br>Choking on your smile  
>A fake behind the fear<br>The queerest of the queer**

"Hey, Dad?"

His Dad looked up from his desk. They were at the garage, and Kurt was supposed to be doing his homework, but something someone had said earlier was really bugging him.

"Yeah, bud?"

Kurt smoothed his bangs on his forehead, and bit his lip. His Dad must've realized it was pretty important, because he set down his pen and turned his chair to face Kurt.

Kurt felt his stomach squirm slightly. "Okay, I don't know what this means, so you can't get mad at me, okay?"

His Dad had an odd look on his face, like he knew what Kurt was going to say but was hoping that he was wrong. His Dad took his hat off and nodded, waving his hand at Kurt for him to continue.

"Okay. What does 'fag' mean?" It felt wrong on Kurt's tongue just saying it, and he felt kind of like he was going to be sick.

His Dad looked how Kurt felt, only a bit pale. He sighed and stood, jamming his hat back on his head roughly and pacing around his small office.

"Christ," Kurt heard him mutter. "Barely freaking ten years old… How do these kids even know these things?" His Dad stopped suddenly and faced Kurt. "Okay, yeah, you don't repeat that. Ever. Okay?" Kurt nodded, even knowing he'd never say it again before he asked his Dad. "Right. Well. It means—It means." His dad swore, and knelt in front of Kurt. "Okay. I'm not gonna tell you what it means—don't," he said before Kurt could interrupt. "I'm not going to tell you because it's a horrible word, and you don't need to know what it means. It's one of the worst words you can call someone, and I doubt if even whoever called you that really knows what it means. They may've picked it up from their parents, or someone else."

"But why would they call me that?"

His Dad sighed again, and looked helplessly around his office. "People—because there are people like that. I don't really know how to answer that, except people are just cruel, or they just don't know better."

"But Dad," Kurt pressed. "Why would they call _me_that? I've never heard them call any of the other kids that."

"Because—because you're special." His Dad swore again, and as tempted as Kurt was to tell him he now had to put fifty cents in the money jar, he didn't want to interrupt. "And that sounds like a load of bull—That sounds stupid, I mean. But, it's true. You're different. And a lot of people here don't like different. That's nothing wrong with you," he added. "It's them. And I'm messing this up entirely."

He stood and walked back to his chair, his back to Kurt, and he could've sworn he heard his Dad say, "Where are you when I need you, Mollie?" Kurt suddenly wished he hadn't said anything, and stared down at his purple and green converse.

One of his Dad's big hands rested over Kurt's small, pale one, and he looked up. "Listen," his Dad said seriously, staring straight at him. "What they said was horrible, and that word is horrible. But that word is not you. That word should mean nothing to you, and they should mean nothing to you. Anybody who makes you feel bad—anybody who says anything to make you feel bad—you can't let them get to you. I know, it's easier said than done. But you're better than that, and you're better than them. There's nothing wrong with you, and if they can't see that, it's their fault.

"But if someone calls you that again," his Dad continued, still staring at him and still holding his hand, "I want you to tell me okay? Or if anyone says or does anything, you tell me. I'll handle it. Okay, kiddo?"

Kurt nodded, still kind of confused, but feeling a lot better than when he had gotten off the bus and Dave and Noah had tripped him and called him that. And he knew his Dad was confused too, but he was trying. So, because of that, Kurt gave his Dad a small smile and patted his hand. "Okay, Dad."

He lifted his hand off of his Dad's, and turned back to his math homework, though he wasn't really paying any attention to it. He acted like he was working on it, though. Kurt could feel his Dad just looking at him for a moment, before he stood and ruffled Kurt's hair.

Because Kurt knew his Dad needed it, Kurt didn't even complain about how it was messed up now.

His Dad got back to work, and Kurt pretended he did too, but the whole time he was staring at his homework, the word 'fag' never left the front of his mind.

**Growing Up—"Radio", He is We**

**He grew up just a little too fast, **

**a loss and a need that's on his past.**

**I can hear him humming from the other side of the room**

**Guess he's got rhythm, 'cause he hums every time he's blue.**

**Oh, radio; bleed me a melody,**

**That will make this boy cry.**

**Radio, bleed me a melody**

**That will make him wonder why he was so cold.**

**Broken glass and a pretty face**

**Silent mourn, full of hate,**

**Screaming for consequence**

**Pleading for more. **

He'd never actually been alone before. Really alone.

He felt the emptiness of the house as he stepped through the front door. The TV wasn't on. His Dad wasn't rummaging around the kitchen for something to eat. All of the lights were off. It was nearing ten p.m. and his Dad wasn't sitting at the table balancing the books.

It was too quiet.

Kurt stepped through the doorway, even though every cell in his body was aching to return to the hospital, to be near his father just a little while longer. But he couldn't, and he was here.

Home didn't even feel much like home without the right people to fill it.

He let his bag drop to the ground, too tired to care (when was the last time he'd slept?), and made his way upstairs, passing by the stairway down to his room without a second glance. It's not like he'd sleep, anyway.

He needed something, something to distract him from this goddamn empty house.

It had been almost a whole week. He was so sick of the silence. He opened the garage every morning to silence, and closed it to silence. He balanced the books to silence. He did his work to silence, and he sat in the hospital room in silence.

Whoever said that silence was golden had clearly never been smothered by it before.

This was the first time he'd been home in days, he realized without much emotion. Usually he'd sleep on the couch at the garage, or he wouldn't sleep at all.

He actually hadn't been here since the first night. And he hadn't come back after that awful night alone.

Kurt pushed open the door to the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the light. It was dark, but he didn't care. He didn't want to see his Dad's stuff strewn across the counter. Didn't want to see the towel his Dad always left on the bathroom floor.

He pushed it away, like everything else he'd felt this week. He had no right to break. He needed to stay strong, and get a fucking grip on himself. For once he needed to act like a goddamn guy and stop crying all over the place.

But, god, he was tired. He slid down to the floor, his back against the wall, ignoring the way his cloths wrinkled. Did it even matter? They're just clothes. They can be replaced.

Father's can't.

He sucked in a sharp breath and dug his nails into his palms, ignoring the tears behind his eyes. With an impatient and frustrated growl, he stood, stripping and throwing his clothes haphazardly. He reached beyond the curtain, searching for the water taps in the darkness, letting steam fill the room and clearing his suffocated lungs.

He stepped under the spray, the almost boiling hot water welcome on his aching muscles. He let his head rest against the cool tile, and bit his lip. He tired his hardest to blank his mind, and dug his nails into his palms until they bled. He let out a shaky breath, feeling a small amount of relief.

He stood there until the hot water cooled and his teeth began to chatter. And even then he stood a while longer. If the lights were on and he looked in the mirror, his lips would probably be blue.

He still ached. Physically, emotionally, mentally. He pushed it away.

Kurt padded to his room, still not bothering with the lights. He reached into his dresser drawer for a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, letting the wet towel around his waist fall wherever it landed. He ran his hands through his wet hair and made his way back upstairs to his Dad's room, where he paused.

He knew this room better than he knew his own. Even in the dark, he knew every step, every groove and piece of furniture.

Feeling unbearably small, he made his way over to his parent's dresser, and opened all the drawers.

He smelled vanilla and honey, and his eyes filled. He turned away, cursing.

Tiptoeing, feeling like he did when he was so much younger and had a nightmare and longing for his parents comfort, he slid over to the bed and lay down, letting vanilla and honey and his fathers scent surround him. He turned his face into the pillow, breathing deeply and wetly. He was shaking.

He couldn't do it. He was so alone. He couldn't be alone. What was he supposed to do? What was he going to do? He was alone at school, he was alone at the hospital, he was alone at the garage, he was alone at home.

Feeling disgusted with himself, he sat up quickly, swiping angrily at the wetness on his cheeks.

"Get out of your fucking pity party," he muttered, clenching his fists. He stood quickly and lost his footing, tripping and bumping into the night stand. There was a crash, and a shatter.

Kurt felt his heart stop and stumbled over to quickly flick on the lights. Even as his eyes were adjusting, he made his way back over, and then just stared.

He'd knocked into his Mom's angel. She wasn't religious, but she'd loved this angel. His Dad had given it to her before Kurt was born. It was porcelain, with her head tipped back and her long brown hair cascading down her back, and a peaceful and gentle expression on her painted face.

And she was broken. In two pieces. Kurt couldn't stop staring and felt his chest heave, and felt himself starting to lose it. The blood was rushing in his ears and he felt himself drop to his knees beside it.

He clutched the angel in his hands, not paying any mind to the way the sharp edges dug into his skin. He felt himself surrounded by vanilla and honey and his father and the broken angel.

Kurt sat there on the floor with the broken pieces and wept.

**Seeing an old love—"The Man Who Can't be Moved," The Script**

**'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me  
>And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be<br>Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet  
>And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street<strong>

Kurt glanced around nervously, knowing his plans to remain inconspicuous were shot. Bondage shorts? What the hell was he thinking, really?

While normally being surrounded by so many guys would make him a little dreamy eyed and light headed, he mostly felt anxious.

What the hell was he doing here again?

Oh yeah, he thought with an internal snort. Making himself useful.

God, this was such a waste of time.

But he wasn't going to go back to McKinley with nothing. So he straightened his shoulders and made his way down a beautiful spiral staircase—and really? In a high school? Jeez.

He was almost to the bottom when he realized he had absolutely no clue what he was doing, or where he was going.

Later, he would wonder why he just didn't turn to either of the guys next to him. Or why he didn't turn around and grab the attention of someone who was more likely to notice him.

Instead, he felt himself drawn to the guy with the overly-gelled hair who was checking his pocket watch. And surprisingly, the guy turned around, and a pair of the most beautiful eyes Kurt had ever seen met his.

Kurt felt something in him jolt, and he was confused for a moment. Vaguely, he thought, _Do__I__know__you_?

He shook it off, pushing it to the corner of his mind. When the guy—Blaine—gripped his hand, it felt familiar and new all at once. Like he had once known him, but forgotten over time.

He forgot all about the feeling for a long time afterwards. But at that moment, Kurt could've sworn that he had known him once.

**Standing Up—"Bleed Like Me," Garbage. **

**Avalanche is sullen and too thin  
>She starves herself to rid herself of sin<br>And the kick is so divine when she sees bones beneath her skin**

**And she says:  
>Hey baby can you bleed like me?<br>C'mon baby can you bleed like me?  
>Chris is all dressed up and acting coy<br>Painted like a brand new Christmas toy  
>He's trying to figure out if he's a girl or he's a boy<br>He says:  
>Hey baby can you bleed like me?<br>C'mon baby can you bleed like me?  
>Doodle takes dad's scissors to her skin<br>And when she does relief comes setting in  
>While she hides the scars she's making underneath her pretty clothes<br>She sings:  
>Hey baby can you bleed like me?<br>C'mon baby can you bleed like me?  
>Therapy is Speedie's brand new drug<br>Dancing with the devil's past has never been too fun  
>It's better off than trying to take a bullet from a gun<br>And she cries:  
>Hey baby can you bleed like me?<br>C'mon baby can you bleed like me?  
>JT gets all fucked up in some karaoke bar<br>After two drinks he's a loser after three drinks he's a star  
>Getting all nostalgic as he sings "I Will Survive"<br>Hey baby can you bleed like me?**

Kurt was finished. He was so beyond finished, he was done with it. It was the last straw, the last goddamn straw, and though he'd regret it later—probably—he knew it'd feel damn good now.

Normally, he wasn't one for physical violence. At all. Ever. Locker shoves, tripping, and one kiss that wasn't consensual made him shy away from violence most of the time.

But _this_? No. Not now, not ever.

If they had continued to just rag on him, beat on him, then okay. He could take it. Fine. You want to shove him in a locker? Go ahead. Want to toss him in a dumpster? Whatever.

But you don't _ever_mess with a girl.

Maybe it was his inner cave-man instincts—after all, when Tina was shoved into a locker that time, platforms be damned, he'd kick their asses sideways. Maybe it was just the innate feeling of it being _wrong_in every way. Maybe it was the way that he was tired of the goddamn food chain in this hell hole. And while it may've gotten a bit more tolerable since he came back to McKinley, this—this right here was proven it could go back to the way things were, or worse.

She wasn't even doing anything. She was one of the quiet and shy girls, one who cowered away from people and had shadows under her eyes more often than not. Actually, she was one of the students that he was going to ask Sue to keep an eye on. Something about her worried him. But she wasn't doing a damn thing. She was walking along the hallways, head down like always, clutching her books to her chest like a lifeline. Then along came that blonde asshat from the hockey team, who not only knocked her books from her arms, but shoved her against the locker so hard she hit her head and made her gasp in pain. He then took one of her forearms and gripped it tightly, making her whiten and he slammed the locker next her head, causing her to flinch.

He walked away, laughing, while she clutched her arm to her chest. Kurt made his way over to her and stopped in shock when he saw blood dripping down her fingertips. She looked at him with frightened eyes and pulled her sleeve down over the cuts on her arms.

The next thing Kurt knew, he had the guy slammed up against _his_locker—thank god for the growth spurt and Booty Camp—snarling in his face. Kurt was vaguely aware of the crowded hallway quieting, but he wasn't aware of anything beyond the blood in his ears, that girls frightened eyes, and this overwhelming feeling of _done_.

"You think you're a big, tough guy?" Kurt didn't even know whose voice that was, because it did _not_sound like him. "Slamming girls into lockers? Making them hurt? Picking on people, does it make you feel bigger than the pathetic," slam "worthless," slam "disgusting" slam, slam, "piece of _shit_you are?"

The guy tried to shove away, but thankfully swimming over the summer paid off because he pushed him back without a thought. "Who the hell do you think you are? Who gave you the _right_to treat people the way you do?" Kurt shoved him away from him, desperate to get as far away from his being as possible. Disgusted, he looked around at the stunned faces in contempt, and noticed the girl still off by herself and clutching her arm. "Who gave any of you the right? What makes you so much better than anyone else? You're all just as disgusting as you think I am, as you think my boyfriend, everyone in Glee club, everyone you deem _not__worth,_is. You're exactly the same as him," he pointed at the guy on the floor, gripping the back of his head. "Even if you haven't done anything, there's the fact that you don't _do__anything_. What the hell kind of human being's are you, to watch people get hurt and suffer everyday and not do a goddamn thing about it?"

He was breathing heavily, and he felt arms grip around his chest tightly, and fingers slide through his own, gripping. He heard Finn trying to calm him down, pulling him back against him, and Blaine step in front of him, blocking him from everyone else's view.

Kurt looked over Blaine's shoulder and saw some people flushing, some looking uncomfortable, and most glaring at the guy on the floor. He wanted to scoff. Figures that they'd turn as soon as someone pointed out what they'd all been doing. Oh the lovely powers of peer pressure.

Kurt stepped away from his boyfriend and brother, calm now and already regretting his outburst. He walked over to the girl and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, wondering at the fact that she actually leaned into him, and led her away from the crowd of silent students.

**Missing Someone—"Big, Big, World," Emilia.**

**I can see the first leafs falling  
>its all yellow and nice<br>it's so very cold outside  
>like the way I'm feeling inside<strong>

Kurt knew he was being a bit dramatic. But he missed his boyfriend. He felt he had the right to be a little dramatic. Just a little bit. But don't tell Blaine.

It'd been two months since he and Rachel had arrived in New York. He didn't know how he was going to survive the rest of the year if he already felt this lonely after two months.

He sighed and looked out the window of their small apartment. It wasn't very big, and it wasn't the best thing in the world, but the loved it. They were here, right where they were always supposed to be.

And the city was amazing, he had to admit. The rush of people, the endless sound, the bustle and the fact that you could stand on the street crowded with people and no one knew you, and no one really cared.

It was something he didn't really think he'd enjoy. But he could walk down the street without being judged, and it gave him a feeling like he'd never felt before.

His breath fogged up the glass a bit, and Kurt watched as the tree outside of their complex lost a bit more of its leaves in the wind.

He lost his smile though when he heard Finn and Rachel laughing in the next room. It wasn't always this bad. Usually he could distract himself with the never ending school work and paperwork from his internship, or call Blaine on Skype or even his phone and he'd be better. But at times he just felt lonely. Never alone, no. He didn't think he could really feel alone again what with Finn and Rachel and Blaine and the random people in new York. But knowing that he may not see the man he loved for another seven months—

He sighed again, plopping down on one of the chairs Rachel had brought from Ohio—furniture from her Dad's first apartment—and scowled unhappily at the ceiling.

Stupid. It was stupid for him to feel like this.

But god, he missed him.

He just missed being with him. They didn't have to even do anything. They could sit for hours and Kurt could just relish the feel of Blaine's comforting presence. He missed Blaine's hand holding his, and Blaine's curly hair, and Blaine's puppy-like qualities. He missed the way Blaine talked and his need to jump on furniture, and his random urges of singing about whatever activity he was doing. He missed Blaine's reading glasses and how he always had a bag of peanut m&ms on hand.

God, he missed Blaine.

He was pouting, and he knew it. He especially knew it when Rachel walked in and took one look at him, then walked back out. Gee, thanks, Rachel.

He heard her murmuring to Finn, but burrowed into the comfy, overstuffed chair. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of Blaine's laugh.

His eyes popped back open wide when he really did hear Blaine's laugh, and he flipped back over so quickly he fell off the chair. He popped back up, rubbing his head, and squealed—a very masculine squeal—when he saw his boyfriend standing rumpled in the doorway of their living room.

Before Blaine could laugh again, Kurt already had Blaine pressed tightly to him and his mouth firmly over his smiling one.

So maybe being dramatic wasn't that bad. Just a little bit.

**Christmas Time—"Baby, It's Cold Outside"**

**I simply must go  
>(but baby it's cold outside)<br>the answer is no  
>(but baby it's cold outside)<br>your welcome has been  
>(how lucky that you dropped in)<br>so nice and warm  
>(look out the window at that storm)<br>my sister will be suspicious  
>(gosh your lips look delicious)<br>my brother will be there at the door  
>(waves upon the tropical shore)<br>my maiden aunts mind is vicious  
>(gosh your lips are delicious)<br>but maybe just a cigarette more  
>(never such a blizzard before)<br>I've gotta get home  
>(but baby you'd freeze out there)<br>say lend me a coat  
>(it's up to your knees out there)<br>you've really been grand  
>(I thrill when you touch my hand)<br>but don't you see?  
>(How can you do this thing to me?)<br>There's bound to be talk tomorrow  
>(think of my lifelong sorrow)<br>at least there will be plenty implied  
>(if you got pneumonia and died)<br>I really can't stay  
>(get over that old out)<strong>

Their first Christmas together was… disastrous.

Puck knocked over the Christmas tree, Finn almost burnt down the kitchen, Santana and Quinn got into a cat fight, and Brittany was almost arrested for streaking through Central Park, and Tina, in a drunken state—something about her whiskey being laced with egg nog—accused Mike of cheating on her, throwing a vase at his head and almost breaking a window in their apartment.

Kurt kept asking himself why they invited their friends to their apartment for Christmas. Blaine sufficiently distracted him from killing everyone with plentiful amounts mistletoe.

After, that is, Kurt went off on everyone, giving a guilt trip even his father would be proud of.

Blaine had grabbed their coats afterwards to get Kurt out of the apartment, dragging him to Rockefeller Center and making him go ice skating, then dragging him to 'their' coffee shop—a decent substitute for the Lima Bean—and forcing everything peppermint and festive he could on him until Kurt had to laughingly beg for mercy.

Grudgingly, Kurt led himself be led back home, his point of view being they could go out into the city and get lost for all he cared. Blaine quickly told him to hush and stop being a brat. Kurt was too offended to reply, and by the time he could, they were already in the apartment.

Where Puck had fixed the Christmas tree, Tina and Mike were making out on the couch, Brittany was clothed, and Santana and Quinn were looking properly chastised. The vase was cleaned up, and Finn had instead went out and bought Chinese food for dinner.

Kurt pretended to be mad throughout the evening until Finn and Puck had sang a rendition of Baby, It's Cold Outside, making everyone laugh, and Kurt soften as he looked over at Blaine who was looking faintly nostalgic. Blaine's eyes met his and he reached over to lace their fingers together, laughing when Puck tried to kiss Finn during part of the song, sending Finn yelping and scurrying to hide behind Rachel.


End file.
